
Book.: 



A SKETCH 

OF THE 



LAST SICKNESS AKD DEATH, 

or 

Mies. Mar? Janft GYosvenoTt. 

I 
LEFT AMONG THE PAPERS 

OF THE LATE 

HON. THOMAS P. GROSVENOR. 



THIRD EDITION. 



And I heard a voice from Heaven, saying unto me, write, from 
henceforth blessed are the dead who die in the Lord; even so 
saith the Spirit; for they rest from their labours, and their works 
do follow them, \ , Rev. xiv— 13. 



BALTIMORE: 
PUBLISHED BY EDWARD J. COALE. 

KENNED X & MAGATJRAN, PBINTEB9. 

1818. 






DISTRICT OF MARYLAND, ss; 

BE IT REMEMBERED, that on this twelfth day 
of June, in the tbrty-first year of the Independence 
of the United States of America, Edward J. Coale, 
of the said District, has deposited in this Office, the 
title (?f a Book, the right whereof he claims as pro- 
prietor, in the words following, to wit: 

"A Sketch of the Life, Last Sickness and Death, of 
"Mrs. Mary Jane Grosvenor, left among' the papers 
"of the late hon. Thomas P. Grosvenor." 

In conformity to an Act of the Congress of the 
United States, entitled, "An Act for the encourage- 
ment of learning, by securing the copies of Maps, 
Charts and Books to the Authors and Proprietors of 
such during the times therein mentioned:" and also 
to the Act, entitled, "An Act supplementary to the 
Act, entitled an Act for the encouragement of learn- 
ing, by securing the copies of Maps, Charts and 
Books to the Authors and Proprietors of such copies 
during the times therein mentioned, and extending 
the benefits thereof, to the arts of designing, engrav- 
ing and etching historical and other prints." 

PHILIP MOORE, 
1 c ^ Clerk, District of Maryland. 



ADVERTISEMENT. 



The following very neat, not to say elegant imitJ.- 
ry notice of this work, appeared in the portico, 
for June, 1817. 

"The excellent character which ihe author 
of this little Sketch bore with him to the 
grave would ensure a welcome reception to 
any thing that came from his pen; hut the 
present offering is rendered doubly acceptable 
to his friends, and will be received with in- 
creased interest by the publick, as being the 
natural, unstudied eloquence of a manly- 
heart, struggling with the heaviest of all 
afflictions. Productions of this sort possess 
a value independent of mere literary merit: 
they carry with them practical lessons of 



IV 

piety: they offer examples how a christian 
should arm himself to support calamity: and 
they prepare the mind to receive the holy in- 
fluence of religious impressions. Under all 
these considerations, this interesting little 
Biography will be found to deserve the atten- 
tion of every reader.' 5 



INTRODUCTION. 

The following correspondence will show 
the manner in which the editor became pos- 
sessed of the manuscript of the following 
work, and the views and expectations which 
have induced its publication. The first letter 
was addressed to the editor, by the person 
who committed it to his charge; the second is 
the letter of the editor to the Right Rev'd* 
Bishop Kemp, and the third, his reply. 

Should it be supposed by any? that a piece 
of this character, written under feelings and 
impressions produced by the peculiar situation 
of Mr. Grosvenor, should never have seen the 
publick eye; the editor has this apology to offer, 
that in the opinion of many friends whose 
judgment he highly respected, the publication 

was calculated to be extremely useful, 

A 2 



LETTER I. 

June % 181f. 

HT DEAR SIR, 

The interesting and instructive 
manuscript, herewith sent, was found among 
the papers of our dear deceased friend, Gros- 
venor, left by him in the office of his friend, 
Mr. Livermore. In his last illness, he gave it 
to the friend in whom there is every reason t® 
believe he most confided, for the last five years 
of his useful life. Having anxiously sought 
after, and found the paper, where he was di- 
rected to look for it, that friend has perused 
and re-perused it again and again, with feel- 
ings he has not attempted to describe. In the 
fullest persuasion, that its publication will 
promote the cause of religion generally, and 
advance the interest of the church in this state 
particularly, where our deceased friend was s# 
generally known and universally beloved, I 



Vlll 

must beg the favour of you to place it in the 
hands of our good Bishop for examination, and 
to be guided altogether by his judgment in the 
final disposal of it. 

As there is no copy, and the owner values 
this production more than all the speeches and 
other publick and private writings which may 
be found among Mr. Grosvenor's papers, let 
me beg of you to be careful of the original, 
and to return it safe, if the "excellent Prelate" 
therein named, should decide against its pub- 
lication. Believe me to be, 

Your friend sincerely, 



Mr. C- 



LETTEK II. 

Rt. Revd. Sir, 

The enclosed manuscript, from the pen of 
our late most estimable friend, the hon. Mr* 
Grosvenor, you will find to be a brief Sketch of 



IX 

the Life, Last Illness and Death of his amiable 
and pious consort. He presented it to a 
friend a few days before his death, and it has 
been placed in my hands, with permission to 
publish it, should it meet your approbation. 
Indeed if this condition had not been enjoined, 
1 cherish the memory of both Mr. Grosvenor, 
and his lady, in such affectionate regard, 
that I would not trust my own judgment on 
a subject so delicate and interesting, and feel 
happy in having it in my power to be advised 
by you, who well knew them, and had an 
intimate knowledge of their high attainments 
in mental and christian acquirement. Some 
time before the death of Mr. Grosvenor, he 
had read much of Christian Theology, and 
particularly on the divinity of our Lord; had 
it pleased God to have prolonged his life, he 
would doubtless have become one of the most 
zealous, able and distinguished advocates in 
ttie cause of our holy religion. The manu* 



script exhibits the character of his mind on 
this subject, and it may have an important, 
impressive and salutary effect, on those who 
read it. Perhaps with some it may tend to 
lessen the great reputation Mr. Grosvenor 
acquired by his pre-eminent talents as a states- 
man; but, whether such detraction merits 
your consideration, you will decide. 1 shall 
be thankful to you, for your answer, on the 
subject as early as you can conveniently favour 
me with it. 

With perfect respect, 
I am, Rt. Revd. Sir, 
Your much obliged, 
And obedient servant, 



St. Revd. Dr. Kemp. 



LETTER IIL 



Dear Sir, 

I have perused the Sketch of the Life 
of Mrs. Grosvenor, with great gratification; 
and I am persuaded, that it cannot be read 
without warming the heart and improving the 
best qualities of the soul. 

It certainly will be viewed as a rare, and 
highly interesting piece. An affectionate hus- 
band delineating the character of a beloved 
wife, tracing her religious progress through a 
series of disease, rapidly advancing towards 
dissolution; marking her struggles to overcome 
the world and all its vanities; treasuring up 
every pious expression; and distinguishing the 
various steps by which she advanced to that 
confidence and love which cast out fear; this 
is a work in which no heart can fail to take a 
deep concern. Here is portrayed, with a 



Xll 

masterly hand, the influence of religion and 
the triumph of faith; here is exhibited that 
elevation of soul, which resignation to the will 
of God, and confidence in the atonement of a 
Redeemer, alone can beget* 

When we viewed Mr. Grosvenor, as a man 
of talents, he secured our esteem. When we 
contemplated him as a distinguished states- 
man, standing in the foremost rank of politi- 
cians, he excited our admiration. But now, 
when we follow him to retirement, and see 
the effusions of his heart, after the loss of a 
beloved wife; when we perceive the tenderest 
sensibilities mingling with a high degree of 
religious affection; he gains our love; his cha- 
racter acquires a new cast, and becomes 
highly interesting; it strengthens the senti* 
ment, that without religion no character can 
be complete, nor any human being altogether 
happy. 



Xlll 

Whatever allowances some may deem ne* 
cessary to be made, for the glow of a lively 
fancy, in the situation of Mr. Grosvenor, when 
the following work was written; yet, to the 
substantial correctness of the descriptions, I 
can bear testimony. I administered to Mrs. 
Grosvenor, most of the ordinances of our 
holy religion, I confirmed her, I married her, 
I admitted her to the Lord's Supper, and I 
attended her in her last illness. She possessed 
a mind, clear and capacious, a heart highly 
susceptible of religious impressions. In all 
our conversations during her last and painful 
sickness, she manifested correct views of the 
plan of salvation, and an implicit reliance 
upon the blood of Christ for pardon and hap- 
piness. While I could at first perceive the 
struggles of her mind to overcome the world, 
and yield up herself to God, before the scene 
closed, every thing of the kind disappeared^ 
and she was truly resigned and tranquil. 



XIV 

In this Sketch, the young lady will see, how 
transitory and evanescent all temporal amuse- 
ments and enjoyments are! how soon the 
brightest prospects may be obscured! and that 
in religion, and in religion alone, she can find 
safety and consolation! 

I am, &c. 

JAS. KEMP 
j|f r . C . 



A SKETCH 



LAST SICKNESS AND DEATH, 



Mrs. tNIairy Jane (hrosvenoi!. 



It has pleased the Almighty Father to re- 
move from this world, in the morning of her 
life, this young and lovely woman. 

"The ways of the Almighty are past find- 
ing out. 

"As a man chasteneth his son, so the Lord 
"our God chasteneth us, that he may humble 
"us and prove us, to do us good at our latter 
"end." 

On our knees, then, let us devoutly kiss 
the hand that presses us down, saying, "The 



16 

Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away 
blessed be the name of the Lord." 

Yet on her interesting life, on the pious 
resignation which accompanied her protract* 
ed sickness, on the firm hope, and even trium- 
phant christian confidence, with which she 
met the King of Terrours, the mind lingers 
with melancholy delight, mingled with emo- 
tions of the keenest anguish for her loss. A 
Short Sketch of that Life, that Sickness, and 
that Death, may solace her surviving friends 
and do justice to her memory — thou God of 
all Grace, vouchsafe that the example here dis- 
played may encourage the strong in faith to 
perseverei may sustain the weak in a course 
of piety, and iure the infidel from his hope- 
less wanderings to the path of faith, hope and 
happiness, which the religion of Christ points 
out to the miserable children of mortality! 

Mrs* Grosvenor was the only daughter of 
&e late Alexander C. Hanson, Esq. Chancel- 



17 

lor of Maryland. — During her very infancy 
he be*an to form her mind on the purest mo- 
del, to enrich it with various literature; and 
to plant deeply and durably therein the seeds 
of virtue and morality* — In this endearing 
work he was powerfully assisted by her mo- 
ther, a woman of rare excellence — To those 
who knew the late chancellor and his lady^ 
his diversified talents and excellent principles; 
her virtuous mind, and sound judgment, it is 
not necessary to say that a mind like that of 
Mrs. Grosvenor, docile, brilliant and strong 3 
under their skilful culture, was reared rapid- 
ly to maturity — And happy for her was this 
early and rapid progress in every mental en- 
dowment. — For at the age of fifteen began the 
real sorrows of her life — she lost her father. — 
In the ensuing year her mother, (on whom 
now rested all her remaining hopes of earthly 
happiness) broken hearted, followed her hus- 
band to the tomb. 



18 

Of the state of Mrs. Grosvenor's mind, up ter 
this period, of her views of religion, of her par- 
ticular studies, and indeed of her general 
pursuits, I have but a very imperfect know- 
ledge — Certainly she had read extensively 
and advantageously; and under the direction- 
of her father, had attempted branches of lite- 
rature not frequently cultivated or deemed 
appropriate to her sex — Certainly her life 
must have been correct, and her disposition 
affectionate, for she was esteemed and loved 
until her death by the friends of her early 
years. 

Now at the age of sixteen she was left in 
the City of Baltimore, a new and strange 
abode, without friends or guides of her own 
sex, without property, without even common 
acquaintance, a young, refined and artless 
girl, to the sole care of her two brothers — 
Neither of them had attained the age of 
*wenty-one years — Baltimore was the focus of 



19 

pleasure and of business — They were young 
and gay, engaged in the bustle of life, fond of 
its pleasures, immersed in its business, and 
intent on building up their own fortunes, 
which they were left to perform with their 
own hands — however kindly disposed, and 
most kindly disposed they certainly were> 
however affectionately they loved her, and 
most affectionately they did love her, and how* 
ever willing to cherish and console her, it can- 
not be conceived, that thus situated and en- 
gaged in such constant scenes, they could 
become either judicious consolers, or appro- 
priate guides, to her young mind, through the 
mazes of this wicked world — For a long pe- 
riod she had few, if any, female associates of 
her own age, with whom her soul could hold 
friendly communion— Perhaps it was fortunate 
for her that she was doomed for a season to 
solitary affliction — Perhaps it was the kind- 
ness of her God which compelled her thus ear- 



20 

ly to serious reflection — to resort to her own 
mind for support — to fly to Him for succour 
and consolation — We may indulge the belief, 
that in this solitary and sorrowful period, were 
sown those seeds of Grace, which though bu- 
ried for a season, sprouted forth, and in after 
years flourished like the green bay tree, and 
finally produced the richest fruits of humility,, 
charity, and vital piety. 

The tenor of her life for the five or six sue* 
ceeding years, is not particularly known to 
me— She certainly was disposed to solemn 
contemplation — she was constant in the pub- 
lick worship of God, according to the forms 
of the church to which she belonged. — She 
continued to reside with the one or the other 
of her brothers in Baltimore— she at length 
mingled in the society of her sex — and no 
doubt was immersed in those pleasures which 
eminently pertains to that society in the place 
of her residence. 






21 

I have heard her regret this period of her 
life as thrown away. — For if she did not live 
without God in the world, the world and its 
frivolous amusements, stole too much of her 
time from more solid pursuits and rational 
and religious studies, — Gay, innocent and ani- 
mated, fond of polite amusements, and che- 
rished by a society, in which, by her brilliant 
mind and accomplishments, she was well qua- 
lified to move, it is not wonderful that she 
yielded to its impulse, and swam rapidly 
along the current of fashionable pleasure.—* 
But blessed be God, she was not suffered to be 
carried on to the ocean of eternity, thoughtless, 
secure and unprepared for the interminable 
voyage. 

It was in this period of her life that she 
met those excellent friends of her own sex 
with whom she formed those affectionate inti- 
macies which continued unbroken and undi- 
minished to the hour of her death. 



■ss 

I have heard her express the liveliest 
gratitude towards Mrs. Home, of Baltimore, 
who early after the loss of her mother, when 
she was young and lovely, and almost with- 
out a protector of her own sex, sought her 
out in her retirement, took her kindly by the 
hand, and directed and supported her trem- 
bling steps. May God reward her disinterest- 
ed kindness! 

Miss Sophia Rogers, Mrs. Didier, Miss 
Didier, Mrs. Mary Proud, Mrs. Rebecca 
Smith, Mrs. Wetherstrand, and Miss Margaret 
Smith, of Philadelphia, and Miss Murray, of 
"West River, she loved with an ardent and 
rational affection. 

For Mrs. Murray, of West River, Mrs. Ro- 
gers, of Greenwood, and Mrs. Smith, of Balti- 
more, who expired a few weeks before her- 
self, she always professed and felt the warm 
affection of a daughter. 



23 

Mrs. Caroline Donaldson was a chosen 
friend of her bosom; one whom her whole heart 
loved, and her whole judgment approved. 

Her cousin Mrs. Magruder, of Annapolis, 
was an early, dear and constant friend. 

Her two sisters, the wives of her brothers, 
held the place in her heart of sisters indeed — 
Mrs. Rebecca Hanson, at whose house her last 
sickness commenced, evinced her affection, 
her sisterly affection, by all that the kindest 
attention, vigilance and sympathy could be- 
stow. And Mrs. Priscilla Hanson, to whose 
house she was removed early in her sickness, 
and there continued till her death, watched 
over her. sick bed with more than sisterly ten- 
derness, was constantly her soother and com- 
forter, and daily and nightly assuaged her 
pains, by the most endearing kindness and 
sympathy.— While both hanging over her 
dying bed, comforted her in her last agonies, 
and wept her final departure and followed 



2* 

her lifeless remains to the tomb of her fa- 
thers. 

But above all, her cousin Mrs. Alexander, 
of Baltimore, was one whom she most loved, 
she, and she alone, could fill that "aching 
void" in her heart, produced by the death of 
her mother — she was the beautiful model, 
upon which Mrs. Grosvenor strove to form her 
character, as a woman and a christian. — And 
she was at once the affectionate friend of her 
bosom, the maternal monitor of her life, her 
friend, her pattern, and her guide. 

Surely, no time could be thrown away in> 
which the friendship and affection of such wo- 
men, were firmly and durably obtained. 

About the age of twenty-two, her mind be- 
came more seriously impressed by the great 
truths of religion, and she began solemnly to 
inquire what she should do to be saved. I am 
not positive that any particular events in her 
life, produced this important improvement in 



25 

the solemnity of her mind — but I believe the 
death of a dear and pious friend, Miss Lydia 
Smith, whose sickness and sufferings were 
proto-t ypes of her own; by whose bed side she 
constantly watched, during a protracted pe- 
riod of suffering and decay, and whose last 
moments she helped to cheer and console, to- 
gether with the pious example and conversa- 
tion of Mrs. Alexander, with whom she was 
intimate, and whom she loved with an affec- 
tion, elevated and ardent, combined to revive 
her early impressions of religion, and to rouse 
her mind to the vast importance of immediate 
preparation for death and eternity. 

This important change in her mind, had, 
however, for a considerable time, but little 
visible influence upon her life and actions. 

It was not evidenced by any particularly 
grave deportment; nor by any apparent gloom 
or despondency; nor by abandoning the cheer- 
ful pleasures of society; nor yet by withdraw- 



ing from those polite amusements which are 
thought by the world to be appropriate to her 
age and sex. But her leisure hours were de- 
voted to serious studies-— I believe, from her 
infancy, she had never failed to approach the 
throne of Grace both morning and evening.— 
But now, she wrestled with her God more 
earnestly— explored the original corruptions 
of her own heart more vigilantly — searched 
the book of life more frequently, and became 
daily more importunate with her God to guide 
her steps in the right way. . 

In this situation she was, when the writer 
of this Sketch became acquainted with her, in 
the summer of 1813 — she then appeared to 
the world sociable and cheerful, and even gay. 
But a nice observer could then discover in 
her countenance, a deep shade of solemn re- 
flection, and in her conduct a disposition bent 
on serious things, a soul in pursuit of vast and 
eternal objects. 



Down to the winter of one thousand eight 
hundred and fifteen, she continued in this 
state of mind, making constant efforts to ab- 
stract her inclinations from temporal vanities, 
and to devote herself to the service of her 
Maker — "She was not weary in well doing- — 
she fainted not, and in due season she reaped 
a full reward." Gradually she became en- 
lightened in the great truths of Christianity; 
gradually, she received the illuminations of 
Divine Grace; gradually, was her soul filled 
with love to her Redeemer; gradually, were 
her affections weaned from earthly objects and 
fixed on heavenly. She had no mystick flashes 
of conviction, no sudden illuminations of 
the spirit, no miraculous warnings or passion- 
ate extacies, by which her soul was instan- 
taneously renewed.— Her's was the work of 
earnest and devout prayer, of tearful and 
agonizing contrition, of solemn reflection, of 
heaven directed meditation— she asked, an& 



38 

it was given her~she sought, and she found — 
she knocked, and it was opened unto her — she 
asked in prayer, believing, and sh$ received. 
She advanced from know ledge to knowledge, 
from grace to grace, until we have every rea- 
son to believe, she became as perfect in her 
Redeemer, as her fallen nature would permit. 

During this winter, she was not wholly 
weaned from those polite amusements which 
fashion sanctions, although she cannot sanc- 
tify — Yet she preferred the society of serious 
friends — she sought the sober fire side circle, 
rather than the gay drawing room — and the 
social parlour she preferred to the crowded 
ball room — she mingled little, very little, in 
the pleasure of fashionable society. 

Not that abstractedly considered, she 

deemed them criminal But she doubted 

whether they were objects worthy the pursuit 
of beings destined to eternity — whether they 
were consistent with that improvement of the 



39 

few hours of our earthly pilgrimage which 
the Scriptures enjoin; and whether their ten* 
dency is not to counteract that blessed spirit 
of Grace, which is constantly striving with 
man — Certain it is, that in her own case she 
felt such to be the fact. — -They had ceased to 
give her pleasure- — and she had long ceased 
to mingle in them, but when solicited and 
urged by her friends.— Now, that she be- 
came convinced they were wrong, the case 
was at once decided. — While enjoying her 
usual health, she resolved to abandon them 
wholly; and she assured the writer of this, 
that she would never again be present at a 
play or a ball. 

Although at the time residing in Baltimore., 
the scene of her youthful pleasures, sur- 
rounded by her gay and early friends, tempted 
constantly by those pleasures in full view, 
and daily importuned to taste them — and al- 
though she had often said that such had been 



30 

her attachment to those amusements, that she 
once thought it impossible to abandon them, 
yet, they became less than nothing, when 
placed in the balance against what she deemed 
her duty, and having resolved entirely to 
refrain, she evinced the solid foundations of 
her piety, by never, in the slightest degree,, 
deviating from her resolution. 

Yet she shunned not the society of the 
cheerful and gay companions of her youth — 
Nothing of moroseness, or gloom or misan- 
trophy was visible in her countenance or 
deportment On the contrary, her progress in 
piety, by mingling a little gravity with her 
natural vivacity, by spreading a shade of 
seriousness over the playful sallies of her 
imagination, by gilding her conversation and 
her conduct, with sentiment and virtue, al- 
most unalloyed, rendered her more attrac- 
tive, more amiable, more lovely and more 
beloved. 



31 

In march last, (1815) she was married— 
Her character as a wife is known but to one 
In this world. 

She was capable of that deep, generous, 
self devoting sentiment, which, in retirements 
springs amid mutual charities and mutual 
pursuits, links itself with every interest of 
life, and twines itself even with hopes of 
immortal happiness. She was a wife but nine 
months, five of which were passed in sick- 
ness, and in suffering. But if the tenderest 
sensibility of soul, the purest and warmest 
heart, a sound judgment, a disposition sweet 
and placid, a lively and playful wit, a firm, 
constant, self devoting attachment, know- 
ledge various and elegant, a delicacy which 
almost shrunk from observation, an enthusi- 
astick love of domestick life, a dee^ and 
solemn sense of religion; a knowledge of all 
her duties, and a soul intent upon their full 
performance could render the conjugal state 



32 

happy; her husband must have been happy. 
He was happy while she enjoyed health; he 
was tortured by her sickness and agonies, 

O! may the same Almighty hand, which 
has so heavily pressed him to the earth, raise 
him from the death of sin, enable him to 
imitate his beloved wife in the hour of sick- 
ness and of death, and finally join her again 
in those celestial mansions where there is no 
more sickness nor pain. 

She lived and died a member of the Protes- 
tant Episcopal church, under the guidance 
and sanction of the Right Revd. Bishop Kemp, 
of Baltimore. She received the holy commu- 
nion early in the last spring, and endeavoured 
to appropriate to her soul the body and blood 
of her crucified Redeemer. With what inde- 
scribable emotions did I witness the humility, 
the trembling anxiety, the agonizing contri- 
tion, the holy awe, with which she partook 
thai highest and most awful sacrament of our 



holy religion. At that moment bowed to the 
very earth, she seemed to surrender her soul 
and body to the great duties of Christianity; 
and finally to consecrate her whole heart to 
the service of her Divine Master. Salvation 
became, henceforth, the great end of her life: 
the great, but silent duties of religion, the 
means by which that end was to be attained; 
that end she henceforth pursued without de- 
flection; those means she continued to prac- 
tice without weariness. 

In June, she was effected by a severe cold, 
and accompanied by coughing, wandering 
pains, and the expectoration of a very little 
blood. The physicians considered the affec- 
tion temporary and not dangerous. The cold 
disappeared, but the cough continued not 
very serious, and the pain occasional, but not 
violent. During the month she left Baltimore, 
on a visit to her brothers on Elk Ridge. Alas, 
she left it never more to return. 



34 

While residing at Belmont, her cough be- 
came more violent, the pains in her sides and 
breast more frequent and more acute — Her 
health rapidly declined — Eminent physicians 
were called in. They considered her situation 
not alarming nor dangerous, and prescribed 
a course for her relief which was strictly pur- 
sued—It was thought best to spend the sum- 
mer in travelling— And in a few days she 
was about to depart on a tour through the 
northern and eastern states — 1^ was believed 
that such a tour, would restore her to perfect 
health. 

On the eleventh of July, she went to dine 
with her brother Charles, a distance of four 
miles — Her spirits and health had been unu- 
sually low for several days preceding — But 
on this day her usual flow of spirits returned. 
She seemed revived, and at dinner was cheer- 
ful, and even lively — A few moments after 
she had dined, a deadly sickness came upon 



35 

her. An hemoptysis immediately ensued, 
and she discharged from her lungs a large 
quantity of blood — With much difficulty the 
hemorrhage was staunched — But in a manner 
which threatened every moment a return. 

Physicians were instantly sent for in all 
directions; but from some fatality, or rather 
from some mysterious cause, Providence so 
directed that not one could be procured— 
Nor could every exertion provide medical 
attendance before the succeeding morning. 

The night was very tempestuous— -And I 
watched over the lovely and patient sufferer 
in a state of anxiety not to be described — 
Never, never will the emotions of that night 
be erased from my memory — Unable to 
speak, not daring to move, every moment 
threatened with a recurrence of the hemorr- 
hage, which in the absence of medical assis- 
tance it was almost certain, could not again 
be staunched, and which if not staunched 



36 

must soon terminate her life, she lay in de- 
vout resignation, patiently awaiting the morn- 
ing — About two o'clock at night, the blood 
began again to flow, with a violence that 
threatened instant dissolution — Every instant 
a slight hectick cough cast forth a torrent of 
blood. Every effort to check the torrent was 
in vain. 

It was a heart-rending scene never to be 
realized by any but those who beheld it — At 
length by opening veins in her arms and per- 
mitting the blood to continue flowing, the 
hemorrhage from her lungs ceased, leaving 
her faint, exhausted and almost in the arms 
of death- — During this terrible scene, she, 
with us all, believed herself dying — Even 
then she seemed prepared for the awful 
change, and was the only person in the 
groupe who was calm and collected — "I am 
gone," she once said in a feeble but firm 
voice, and clasping her hands, she raised 



S7 

her half closed eyes to Heaven, with an ex- 
pression of such fervent devotion and sweet 
resignation, as I never witnessed in any one 
but herself* 

A bilious fever succeeded, which for twenty- 
one days raged with a fury beyond the con- 
troul of medicine — At length it subsided, and 
symptoms of a phthisis pulmonalis appeared. 
Her disorder soon assumed the defined shape 
of a consumption. From the first, she had 
been unable to stand or move from her bed, 
but in the arms of another—- For five months, 
pains the most acute and tormenting, Were 
her constant attendants.— Throughout her 
whole system, day and night, rarely with the 
intermission of a moment, never of an hour, 
her pains and agonies were almost in the ex- 
treme. At length her life, after quivering 
long in the socket, was suddenly extinguish- 
ed — And that soul, which had long been fami- 
liar with death, and had long rested on faith, 



33 

took its flight from a world of suffering, to 
mingle with congenial spirits in the new 
Jerusalem above. — It now remains to view 
this lovely christian, in Sickness and in Death — ■ 
And O! blessed Redeemer, who didst fill 
the soul of my beloved Mary with faith, 
hope and charity, in the agonies of sickness 
and of death; inspire me with a proper spirit 
to set forth the pious example of my beloved 
wife, in a manner worthy of the great and 
solemn scene! 

A writer of some celebrity has said, "No 
"species of reputation is so cheaply purchas- 
ed as death bed fortitude; when it is fruit- 
less to contend and impossible to fly, little 
"applause is due to that resignation which, 
"patiently awaits its doom." 

If applied to that "fool, who hath said in 
his heart there is no God; let us eat, drink 
and be merry, for to-morrow we die;" if ap- 
plied to the hardened reprobate, whose soul 



39 

is cased in iniquity, and whose conscience is 
seared with a red hot iron; or to that cold 
blooded infidel, who spurns the blood of a 
Redeemer, shed on the cross for him, and 
who never once reasoned of righteousness, 
temperance, and the judgment to come; the 
remark may sometimes prove true. — But 
surely he must be mad, who dignifies the 
death bed lethargy of such an one with the 
name of "fortitude," or "patience," or "re- 
signation." No, it is that horrible calm, which, 
cold, dark and heavy, spreads its benumbing 
influence over a soul in which every ray of 
joy is extinguished, over which unmixed de- 
spair presides — Call it not "fortitude."— It 
is damning, lethargick insensibility — or silent 
helpless despair. — Different, far different is 
the condition of him who believes the book of 
life — who acknowledges its sound truths, and 
feels at the hour of death, that he is just ap> 



40 

proaching, naked and alone, the judgment 
seat of the Almighty. 

To him who believes that man, unconvert* 
ed, unregenerate man, is the child of inevita- 
ble and eternal perdition, who knows that re- 
pentance for sin, the Grace of God and a 
holy life are indispensable to salvation, who 
believes that a just God will judge the dead, 
and that as death leaves him, so that judgment 
will find him; him, who on his death bed, with 
these views of the eternal world, and is yet 
conscious that he has not one of these indis* 
pensable requisites to plead at that awful tri« 
bunal, to which death, is even then dragging 
him, is "patient resignation," is "death bed 
fortitude," easy? Conscious that the hour of 
probation has been thrown away, feeling that 
the summer is past, that the harvest is ended, 
and he not saved, the very conviction that "it 
is fruitless to contend," and "impossible to 
fly," O! how must it agitate the whole frame? 



u 

how must it overwhelm in distraction every 
.faculty of the mind? how must it steep the 
whale soul in the very essence of agony? At 
such a moment, and with such a wan is the 
bubble "reputation" to be sought? Is "death- 
bed fortitude" to be easily purchased? O no— 
these paltry trinkets of a vain world, vanish 
like the visions of insanity— The mind is en- 
tirely occupied in t\\e view of the eternal 
world — the soul shrinks in agony from the 
gulph which yawns to receive it — and its last 
accents are heard invoking mercy — -or are 
vainly spent in calling on the mountains to 
hide it, from the face of him who sitteth on the 
throne, and from the wrath of the Lamb: for 
the great day of his wrath is come, and he is 
not able to stand. no— it is that man, that 
hath a conscience void of offence, that is in 
charity with the world, that is purified from 
• all strains in the blood of the Lamb, and is in 

close union with his Redeemer, such, and 
j>2 



4& 

such only, is the man who wishes not "to fly/* 
but to the arms of his Saviour, who wishet 
not "to contend," but for the crown of righte- 
ousness— *whose "death bed" is crowned witk 
"fortitude," who "purchases reputation easi- 
ly," who, not only, with "patience and resig- 
nation," but with holy hope, confidence and 
triumph, "awaits his eternal and happy doom." 
Mrs* Grosvenor, during the dangerous pe- 
riod of her fever, had appeared calm and re- 
signed to death — she expressed her firm reli- 
ance on the rich grace of her Redeemer* and 
I have no doubt, then possessed a "reasonable, 
religious and holy hope" of salvation — yet 
her affections were not wholly weaned from 
all earthly objects, When the violence of her 
fever abated, she was removed to Belmont-*- 
Here, she apparently began to recover — and 
there were great hopes of her restoration to 
health —she herself joined in, and was cheer* 
ed by that hope. 



*8 

She had just entered into a state which she 
imagined would afford her all the happiness 
of which she was capable on earth — her fond 
partiality, and her lively imagination, paint* 
ed to her virtuous and affectionate heart, 
years of love, tranquillity and usefulness, which 
she delighted to anticipate, and which she 
still hoped to realize— Yet amidst the most 
fascinating dreams of earthly affection and 
happiness, when she constantly prayed for 
her recovery, she never ceased to breathe fortk 
in humble submission, "not mine but thy will 
be done." Her christian education was not 
yet entirely completed in the school of suffer- 
ing — Hence she still felt her affections re- 
turning to the dear objects of earth — she still 
rejoiced in the hope which was entertained of 
her recovery. This flattering hope was like 
the last gleam of the setting sun, streaming 
over the hills and valleys a few brilliant and 



44 

transitory rays, and leaving the earth to dark- 
ness and to night. \ 

Her disorder became an inveterate consump- 
tion, attended by all its worst diagnosticks. 
Henceforth it never for a moment yielded to 
the efforts of her physicians — physicians, who 
combined profound knowledge of their pro- 
fession, with the liberal, warm and tender sen- 
sibilities of men. A settled conviction that 
her disorder would rapidly run its course, and 
terminate in death, now took possession of 
her mind — yet that mind was unshaken by 
the conviction — she became, indeed, more 
earnest and constant in prayer and praise, 
and her only solicitude was to improve the re- 
maining hours of her life, to the glory of her 
Reedemer, and to her own salvation. Often 
amidst the agonies of pain, have I heard her 
bless the name of her Maker, for allowing her 
even a protracted life of suffering. Often hath 
she poured out her soul in thanksgivings, for 



45 

the severe, but healthful discipline which her 
soul was receiving from his hand. Her chris- 
tian conversations were daily and nightly.— 
But it was for about three hours in the mid- 
dle of the night, tnat she was generally most 
free from pain— and then it generally was 
that religion formed the topick of those inter- 
esting conversations— they turned for the 
most part, upon the habits and conduct of her 
life — the present state of her departed friends, 
the religious condition of those who still liv- 
ed — the rich grace of the Redeemer, the in- 
fluence of Christianity on the heart and life—* 
on preparations for death a id eternity — the 
exercises and emotions of her own soul in 
prayer and worship — her feelings and views 
in relation to the world she was about to leave 
—and in contemplation of the great and aw* 
ful change which was rapidly arj roaching.— 
These conversations are imprinted on my 
memory — they have made an impression on 



46 

my heart never to be removed. But I cannot 
bring myself to detail them — I should weaken 
their force and do her memory injustice. — 
As she approached nearer her end, she seem- 
ed to become more and more calm and fami- 
liar with death — she frequently conversed on 
that event with all the serenity, solemnity, 
and fervour, which always marked her con- 
versation on any religious topick — on one 
such occasion, she was asked whether she felt 
prepared to meet her God; whether she could 
fly to the arms of her Saviour with hope and 
confidence of happiness? "O yes/' she said, 
"such are my feelings now — 1 think I have 
taken a final leave of this world — i think no- 
thing could induce me to wish again to min- 
gle with it." ' 

"It is long since I have prayed for my re- 
covery — It seems to me that all 1 now want 
is to be present with my Redeemer." — Yet, 
she continued, after a short pause — ''It is an 



47 

awful meeting, and well may the purest saints 
tremble at the thought of it— To enter un- 
disguised and alone in the presence of the 
great God — The just, omniscient, offended, in- 
sulted, Almighty Judge of heaven and earth — 
To be viewed by Him— To be judged by 
Him!!— 0! who is without sin? — Who shall 
be able to stand? — None, none but those 
whom a merciful Saviour shall support. O! 
blessed Redeemer, on thy cross, on thy 
blood, on thy body, are placed all my hopes 
in that awful hour — Supported by thy Al- 
mighty arm, I can meet death without fear— 
I can pass through the dark valley without 
fainting — I can enter into the presence of 
my judge with hope and confidence — For 
thou, O! blessed Saviour, hast washed my 
soul in thy own blood — hast satisfied the 
claims of divine justice, hast interceded with 
thy Father and my Father, and hast procured 
pardon for my sins."— After a pause of a few 



48 

minutes spent in silent meditation, she con* 
tinued — "Yet may I not deceive myself?— 
When the final struggle approaches, may I not 
faint? May I not shrink from the awful trial?" 
She was asked whether she had examined her 
heart deeply, and the foundation of her faith 
and hopes vigilantly? And whether she had 
any reason to suppose that they were built on 
sandy foundations? She replied, "It is the 
constant business of my lingering life to ex- 
amire and search my affections; I have en* 
deavoured to correct all enthusiasm and to 
check and chastise my feelings — With the 
most earnest prayer I have daily endeavoured 
to explore my heart and affections. But the 
book of truth assures me, and I know that the 
heart is deceitful above all things and despe- 
rately wicked! And I sometimes tremble at 
the bare possibility that it may elude my 
search and deceive me to my ruin— "0!" she 
continued, "pray tor me, that my Heavenly 



49 

Father may not suffer me to be deceived. I 
have no reason to suspect that I am deceived* 
On the contrary, I have the firmest reliance 
on the mercy of my Gracious Father. I have 
the most undoubting hope that the cross of my 
Redeemer hath subdued my heart. Yet pray 
for me, that I may not be deceived. And 
constantly pray that the holy hope and confi- 
dence which now consoles and cheers my 
heart, may continue to support me — that it 
may inspire me with confidence and triumph 
In the hour of my dissolution — then I shall 
neither faint or shrink from the trial — for then 
I shall fear no evil; O pray for me, that my 
Gracious Father may enable me in my last 
hour, to show you a good example of chris- 
tian hope, confidence and joy." "0!" she 
concluded, "had I worlds, I would freely give 
them, to know what will be my views, hopes, 
and feelings in the last hour of my life — But 
God is good, merciful and true. He will not 



- so 

abandon me then— He will sustain me, for I 
have no other hope, no other consolation- 
Hath he not said, "I will never leave thee, nor 
forsake thee?" By frequent conversations 
like this, she taught, as from the grave, the 
great lesson, that all reliance for salvation, 
is in the rich, unmerited mercy of the Re* 
deemer. 

Recurring on one occasion to the events of 
her past life, it was remarked to her, that her 
life had been uncommonly innocent and vir- 
tuous, and that this must be a subject of great 
comfort to her in her present condition. 

She said, she hoped it was true, that from 
her infancy she had endeavoured to shun po- 
sitive sins and wicked pursuits—she had ge- 
nerally attended the publick worship of God, 
and had not neglected the duties of private 
devotion—and as long as she remembered, 
had been inclined to do good and useful ac- 
tions, rather than useless and evil ones.— 



51 

Certainly, she said, this reflection was eon- 
soling and precious to her — a consolation she 
would not barter for worlds— Yet, she said, 
her hopes of forgiveness and salvation were 
none of them placed on this foundation — Her 
motives, even in the most virtuous actions, 
had not been pure— the glory of God, the love 
of her Saviour, obedience to His will, had not 
been her motives — No, her actions would not 
bear the scrutiny of that All Just Father, who 
cannot look on sin with the least allowance, 
and whose indispensable requisition is, "My 
Son give me thine Heart," How much of 
the feelings of this vain world had entered 
into all her best actions! How much precious 
time had she thrown away on the vanities of 
this world! How many opportunities of serv- 
ing and worshipping her Heavenly Father, had 
she neglected! How often had she resisted 
the suggestions of the Spirit of Grace, striv- 
ing with her and urging her to enter on the 



53 

great work of salvation! — How often had she 
practical 1 j said to that holy spirit, "go thy way 
for this time; when I have a convenient sea- 
son I will call for thee!" "0 no!" she continu- 
ed, "the catalogue of my sins is endless — my 
life would justly subject me to eternal punish- 
ment — for I have constantly rebelled against 
a tender, long suffering, Gracious Father. 
But blessed, forever blessed be his great and 
holy name, he hath promised a way for my re- 
turn to his arms — It is the blood of the Lamb, 
slain for the sins of the world, which alone 
can blot out my dreadful transgressions and 
cleanse my soul for heaven. What unspeak- 
able grace, what incomprehensible love is 
this! That the only Son of God should leave 
the bosom of his Father, to bleed and die, that 
rebels might be restored to innocence and sal- 
vation; O how do I now wonder, that with a 
full knowledge of all this kindness, this vo- 
luntary mercy, I could for one moment con 



53 

tinue indifferent or obstinate; that I could re- 
frain from throwing myself into the open arms 
of my blessed Saviour. O my dear and pre- 
cious husband, look to that glorious and mer- 
ciful Redeemer— see what he has done for 
you — can you resist his mercy and his love? 
Can you bear to think that the Son of the 
Most High God, shall die in vain for you? 
O embrace his mercy, accept his love. — 
O how will you rejoice when you arrive at the 
state in which I now am, if you now receive 
him as your God, your Saviour, your all. It is 
on His free and rich grace, on His blood alone, 
that any soul can rest any hope of salvation. 
How do they deceive themselves, who think 
that a life of common morality can atone for 
sin, entitle them to mercy and salvation, or 
even fit them for the pure and holy joys of 
Heaven." 

She then expressed fervent gratitude for 
the christian lesson, which she had been told 



54 

the mo3tRev. Arch Bishop Carroll, had a few 
days before given to the world on this sub- 
ject. A friend spoke to him of his blameless 
life and useful actions as a strong ground for 
hope and confidence. He pointed to the cross 
before him and solemnly replied, "there is the 
only foundation of any hope and confidence 
of salvation that I possess." 

If, she said, a man like bishop Carroll, deep- 
ly learned in all the doctrines of Christianity, 
of a life, pure as human nature can attain, 
endowed with all the moral and social vir- 
tues, abounding in charity, of unquestionable 
piety, whose good and useful actions were 
almost as numerous as the moments of his 
life, was found with the publican to cry "God 
be merciful to be a sinner," if he was driven 
io the cross as his only refuge from eternal 
misery, who shall be so madly presumptious 
as to rely on his own virtue, his own inno- 
cence, his own merits for salvation? She 



55 

earnestly hoped that this humble and chris- 
tian example might be widely spread, that it 
might help to rouse from their fatal security 
all those, who professing the name of Christ, 
relied too much on their moral virtues for 
happiness, believing them to bring their own 
reward in a future world. About a fortnight 
before her death, Dr. Kemp visited her for 
the last time. He conversed freely with her^ 
prayed with her, and for the last time admi- 
nistered the sacrament of the holy supper. 
O what a visible consolation to her soul was 
this visit and this holy sacrament. It must 
afford that kind and excellent Prelate, the 
purest joy, to know that he was the instru- 
ment in the hands of Providence, to fill with 
comfort and holy confidence the soul of an 
expiring christian. Under all her sufferings 
she had strove to imitate the Holy Apostle 
of the Gentiles. "Her distresses abounded;'* 
"she seemed to be pressed above measure." 



56 

The flesh was weak; and in the early part of 
her sickness groans and tears were forced 
from her by the agonizing pains which racked 
her frame. Yet, even then, she acknowledged 
the hand of her gracious Father who inflicted 
them; declared them merciful, and less than 
nothing in comparison with what her trans- 
gressions merited. As her sickness advanced^ 
though her pains increased, her patience and 
resignation increased; and she bore them with- 
out a murmur, and almost without a groan. 
She wished to come out of the conflict, not 
only as conqueror, but more than a conque- 
ror, "through him who loved us;" for "she 
reckoned that the sufferings of the present 
time were not worthy to be compared with 
the glory that shall be revealed." 

After the last sacrament, I have remarked 
that a superiour resignation, calmness, hope 
and confidence were visible in her conduct 
and conversation. No doubts or difficulties 



57 

disturbed the serenity of her soul — she knew 
that her last hour rapidly approached. She 
longed for that hour. Yet she resigned her- 
self wholly to the will of her God; and "thy 
will be done," mingled with all her sufferings, 
all her prayers, all the emotions of her soul. 

During her sickness I read to her a literary 
work, called "Discipline" — -a boak, which, 
though published in the form of a novel, is 
filled with the most elevated strains of moral 
precepts, and the most lively models of chris-. 
tian examples. Little could that excellent 
writer suppose, when she was drawing the fol* 
lowing portrait of death-bed piety, resigna- 
tion and confidence, that her picture would 
so soon find an original in almost every line 
and feature: 

"Her malady had now assumed a shape 
"which announced to all, that she had but a 
"few days to live. She was fully conscious of 
"this. Yet no expression of impatience be» 



58 



strayed her. For more than four months, 
"scarcely quitted her bedside by day, never 
"by night. During the latter days of this pro- 
tracted suffering, though her pains were con- 
stant and beyond description dreadful, nei- 
"ther cry nor groan escaped her. Often have I 
" wiped the big drops of agony from her fore- 
head; but she never complained. She was 
"more than patient; the settled temper of her 
"mind was thankfulness. 

"The decay of its prison house seemed only 
"to give the spirit a foretaste of freedom.- 
"Timid by nature, beyond even the usual fear- 
"fulness of her sex, she yet endured the most 
"agonizing pains, not with the iron contumacy 
"of a savage, but with the submission of a filial 
"love. The approach of death she watched 
"more in the spirit of the conqueror than the 
"victim. Yet she often expressed her willing- 
ness to linger on, till suffering should have 
"extinguished every tendency to self witt* 



, 



m 

"and helplessness should have destroyed eve- 
"ry vestige of pride. Her desire was grant- 
ed. Her trials brought with them an infalli- 
ble token that they came from a Father's 
"hand; for her character, excellent as it had 
"seemed, was exalted by sufferings; and that 
"which in life was lovely, was in death sub- 
lime. At last the great work was finished. 
"Her education for eternity was completed; 
"'and from the severe lessons of this land of 
"Discipline, she was called to the boundless 
"improvement, the instructive knowledge, 
"the glorious employment of her Father's 
"house." 

On Saturday evening, the second day of 
December, she was visibly sinking — late in 
the evening she appeared to be dying — she 
prayed devoutly, and she was supported by 
her God. About midnight she revived, and 
she poured forth praises to God, that he had 
vouchsafed his merciful support t© her soul 



60 

at the awful moment, when she believed she 
was about to appear at His tribunal. During 
the Sabbath she was almost constantly in pray- 
er and thanksgiving. On Sunday evening it 
became almost certain that she could survive 
but a few hours. She was conscious that the 
morning sun would rise in vain for her. About 
nine o'clock, in an agony of pain, she said, 
"sad hours seem long; but I am ungrateful — 
these hours are given me for further prepara- 
tion." 

She dozed occasionally; and when awake, 
prayer and devotion were her constant, but 
silent employment. About eleven her breast 
became dreadfully affected. She was asked 
if the usual application of a blister should be 
tried for her relief. 

"I have been considering that" she replied. 
"It is too late. I am certain there cannot be 
time allowed me for the application to pro- 
duce any relief." 



61 

It was indeed too late. Her only relief was 
how to be found in another world. Her only 
physician was the great physician of souls. 

Thus she continued until about two o'clock, 
when her breath became short and laborious, 
and her speech a little indistinct. About 
half past two, death had seized her. She was 
How struggling in his arms. She seized the 
last moment allowed her, and with a look and 
tone, which evinced hope, confidence and 
holy triumph, which proved that her earnest 
prayers for support in her dying hours, were 
heard and answered; she exclaimed, "God 
hless you all. Give him thanks that he has 
enabled me to set you this example." 

These were her last words. Not one 
struggle, scarcely one convulsive spasm was 
visible. "A smile of triumph lingered on her 
face. — It was the beam of a sun that had set, 
The saint had entered into rest" 



62 

Such was the end of this young and lovely 
woman. It was a happy and glorious death* 
"It was a triumphant appeal to all, whether 
our blessed faith, brings not comfort unspeak- 
able; but how strong, how suitable, how glo- 
rious its consolations are, no one can ever 
know, until, like her, he is bereft of all others, 
and like her find them sufficient when all 
others fail. 55 

It is possible that the following description 
of the mind and person of the lovely woman, 
whose Life, Sickness, Sufferings and Death, 
are too feebly sketched in the preceding pa- 
ges, will be too highly coloured. It cannot 
be doubted that affection holds the pen. Yet 
I shall speak of her as she appeared to my 
judgment — as she now exists in my heart — 
I speak too, what I religiously believe, as in 
the presence of my Maker. 

The face of Mrs. Grosvenor was not beau- 
tiful, according to the popular estimate of 



63 

beauty. Her features were not perfectly re- 
gular, nor did the colours of the lily and the 
*ose, mingle among them in profusion. Yet, 
her countenance was line and interesting— 
her eyes were of a light blue, large and beam- 
ing with sensibility and intelligence; the 
whole of her countenance was so lighted up 
by her soul — its expression was so tempered 
with mildness and spirit, meekness and dig- 
nity, vivacity and thoughtfulness, that, though 
her face and features were not regular and 
beautiful, yet they possessed something more 
striking, more interesting, more dignified and 
delightful. 

Her person was delicately formed — of more 
than common height and sufficiently symme- 
trical. Her air was easy and graceful, though 
modest and a little reserved. Her move- 
ments corresponded to her person — they 
were light, animated and elegant. But it was 
not her face and person, prepossessing as they 



64 

really were, it was her strong and brilliant 
mind, her virtuous and affectionate heart, 
which fascinated the love of all who knew 
her; perhaps the world contained not one 
mortal that wished her ill in life— she had 
not one acquaintance but mourned her sick- 
ness and prayed for her happiness in death. 
This universal esteem of her acquaintance, 
was not acquired or retained by any artificial 
method — It was the natural consequence of 
that benevolence and charity of heart, which 
wished well to all human kind — and of that 
sensibility and sympathy of soul which direct- 
ed her in all her intercourse with the world. 
Her mind was vigorous and rich — Her powers 
©1 reasoning were strong and accurate, and 
her judgment was cultivated, clear and sound. 
Indeed, ail the faculties of reason and judg- 
ment were mature beyond her sex and age. 
But an imagination excursive, brilliant and 
lofty, was the predominant eharaeteristick of 



her mind — She loved to give it ample scope- 
to soar on its wings through ideal scenes, 
through untried being and other worlds. It 
would have been dangerous, if it had not been 
directed by a pure taste, cherished by the 
strong arm of reason, and regulated by virtue, 
morality and religion. She had wit in no 
ordinary measure. It never was seen to flash 
upon the world — But those little friendly 
circles which she most loved can never forget, 
that playful fancy, and delicate raillery with 
which she enlivened conversation and ren- 
dered domestick scenes delightful. 

She had an absolute passion for poetry— 
and was familiar with the great masters of 
song, who knew how to strike those strings of 
harmony which vibrate strongest on the 
human heart. A soul, attuned to harmony, 
tremulous as the shade of the light, quivering, 
aspen, and deeply sensible to grand or pathe- 
tick images, aided by a retentive memory, 



had stored her mind, with almost every pas* 
sage in her favourite poets, distinguished for 
elevated thought or elegant diction. Her 
knowledge of history was accurate and suffi- 
ciently extensive. She was tolerably versed 
in the science of Ethics; and she had read 
attentively the best christian works in our 
language. 

With these mental and moral endowments, 
she did not strive to shine in the world be- 
yond the sphere of her familiar friends — 
She had none of that paltry ambition for 
publick applause or admiration, which some- 
times leads female votaries to show off their 
accomplishments, at the expense of retiring 
modesty and female decorum — She made no 
parade of her talents — On the contrary, she 
shrunk from observation — and except among 
her immediate friends, was a listener rather 
than a talker. 



She possessed by nature, even more thau 
the usual timidity of her sex; yet in the 
duties of life and religion, she was resolute 
even to bravery; she had no affectation of 
tenderness and delicacy; yet the very fibres 
of her soul trembled with disgust at any thing 
really indelicate or indecorous; and though 
she shrunk not from loathsome scenes to 
which her duty called her; scenes which 
would have shivered to atoms, the nerves of 
many a fashionable fair one — Yet she never 
stepped beyond those rules even of arbi- 
trary origin, which the general consent of 
the christian world, has imposed on the con- 
duct of her sex. 

Yet the riches of her mind w T ere not folded 
in a napkin; nor were the virtues of her soul 
hidden under a bushel. 

Her correspondence was extensive; and 
she wrote in a style of elegance and liveli- 



ness formed on an excellent model.* The 
infantile minds of the little children who 
were placed near her, received from her 



*The following obituarv notice of Mrs. Magruder, 
her relation and friend, is subjoined. — Mrs. Magruder 
died of a lingering- consumption in October, 1814. 
She was the daughter of Dr. Philip Thomas, of Fre- 
derick county, Maryland, and the sister of John Han- 
son Thomas and Mrs. Alexander, of Baltimore. The 
two Former died in May, 1815. 

'Departed this hfe on the 27th of October, in the 
37th year of her age, after severe and protracted 
suffering, Mrs. Rebecca B. Magruder, wife of Alex- 
ander C. Magruder, esq.' 

In vain shall the pen of affection attempt to deline- 
ate the character of this excellent woman, or to des- 
cribe the agony of those afflicted friends left to 
mourn her loss. 

In ner death, her sex has lost one of its brightest 
ornan ents. She possessed a mind enlightened and 
elevated — a heart sincere, generous and expanded. — 
Few have lived, in whom were so carefully and softly 
blended, useful and shining talents, with gentleness, 
meekness, humility, piety and modesty. In the rela*. 



69 

mouth early lessons of knowledge; early inv 
pressions of virtue and piety. Servants in 
those families where she resided, even the 



tive duties of life, as daughter, wife, mother, sister 
and friend, these qualities shone with peculiar lustre; 
and in all these characters she has left an example 
Worthy of universal imitation. May that bright ex- 
ample never cease to impress the heart and influence 
the conduct of her who offers this tribute to a belov- 
td friend. 

It was the will of Heaven that an aged father should 
support in his feeble arms the sinking frames of his 
beloved and expiring child. May the merciful God 
who tempers the wind to the shorn Lamb, grant him 
grace to bow and to kiss the afflictive rod. 

An adoring husband has beheld her, on whom rest- 
ed all his hopes of temporal felicity; her, who like a 
Guardian Angel, had pointed to virtue and to peace; 
who had imparted consolation, and love, and joy, 
snatched from him in the meridian of life. But she 
is not lost to him forever. Even now, while her frail 
body sleeps in the grave, soaring on wings of chris- 
tian faith, he may behold her in a robe of celestial 
glory, alluring him to join h«r in a brighter and a 
better world. 



70 

sable children of Africa, received frequent 
lessons of religion, and portions of the word 
of God from her lips. 



It is an awful thing to die; 

Yet the dread path once trod, 

Heaven opes its everlasting portals high, 

And bids the pure in heart perceive their God. 

But for the four little cherubs she bequeathed to 
his care and affection, this would seem a dark and 
Cheerless wilderness — But while he 

Marks with nature's peerless grace, 
Their blossoms blaw, 
Happy to see them fill the place 
Of her awa — 

He will forget the ills of life, and in the performance 
of his lonely duties, he shall find his reward. 

An affectionate sister, too, is bereaved of the sole 
companion of her youth, the early, constant, enlight- 
ened, faithful friend of her bosom. Do thou, O God, 
support the mourners in this hour of affliction, and 
convert this severe temporal chastisement to their 
eternal good." 



71 

She had little to bestow in alms; but that 
little contributed to moison the parched lips 
of the indigent sick, to sustain the broken 
spirits of the virtuous poor. To the extent 
of her limited means, and throughout the 
sphere in which she moved, she was constant- 
ly scattering benefits and consolations. 

O many were the wretches, steeped in 
poverty and in suffering, who invoked the 
blessings of Heaven upon her small, but 
kind and discriminating charities — not for 
her charities only, but for her frequent visits 
to their desolate abodes, for the timely 
assistance which her own hand had render- 
ed, and the religious consolation which her 
soothing admonitions have administered— 
How many pillows of sickness and agony has 
her own hand smoothed? Over how many 
beds of death has she watched, relieving 
sorrow by her sympathy, attuning to heaven 
by her persuasions, assuaging even the 



72 

agonies of death by her kindness and conso- 
lation? 

Perfection is not given to mortals — yet some 
are blest with purer, kinder, more virtuous 
souls. And if ever there was a mere woman, 
whose life and death were models worthy of 
Universal imitation, this was that excellent 
woman. 

I appeal to those who knew her intimately, 
who could understand her affections, whose 
minds were sufficiently elevated to hold com- 
munion with her soul. She was lofty, yet 
meek; patient and cheerful; affectionate, brave, 
faithful and pious; a pillar formed to adorn 
and support the temple of this life's happiness. 
Of her piety of life and in death, I have fully 
written — I have nothing to add. It was a 
piety built on the deep foundation of faith, 
hope and charity — it was rational, fervent 
and habitual — It was such a piety, which ren- 
dered her lovely in health, which supported 



73 

her fragile frame through five months of 
agony, rendering her soul always resigned, 
generally cheerful™ which enabled her to 
smile, even in the face of death, and bore her 
in triumph from his iron arms, to life and 
peace eternal. As descriptive of her life, I 
tvould add the following beautiful lines: 

"Playful and artless, on the summer wave 
"Sporting with buoyant wing-, the fairy scene 
"With fairest grace adorning; but in woe, 
"In poverty, in soul subduing griefs, 
"In patient tending on the sick man's bed, 
"In ministerings of love, in bi teres! pangs-* 
"Faithful and firm; in scenes where firmer hearts 
"Have cracked, still cheerful, and still kind." 

In relation to her death and present state 
may I not, without presumption, apply the 
triumphant language of holy Paul. 

"She hath fought the good fight; she hath 
"finished her course, she hath kept the faith; 
"henceforth there is laid up for her a crown of 
"Righteousness, which the Lord, the High- 



n 

neous Judge shall give her at that day; and 
"not to her only, but to all them that love his 
^offering." 

In the firm belief of this, "I sorrow not 
"for her who is asleep, as those who have no 
"hope; for I believe that Jesus died and rose 
"again; and even so, them also, which sleep 
"in Jesus, will God bring with him." 



APPENDIX. 



The Editor presumes the reader would be 
pleased to receive, at least, a brief account of 
the author of the preceding pages. 

The Hon. Thomas P. Grosvenor, surviv- 
ed his amiable and pious fady, about fifteen 
months. He was of a strong constitution, 
and generally enjoyed excellent health until 
about two months before his death; when he 
was attacked (as was ascertained after his 
death) with an enlargement of the heart, of 
which disease, he died on the twenty-fourth 
of April, 1817, in the thirty-eighth year of 
his age. He was a native of Connecticut, and 
was educated at Yale College, under the 
direction of the late Dr. Dwight. During the 
last five years of his life, he was a distinguish- 
ed Representative in the Congress of the 



76 

United States, from the state of New-York. 
After his marriage, he commenced the prac- 
tice of the law in the city of Baltimore, where 
lie already ranked among the most distin- 
guished members of the bar. As a mark of 
their high respect for his memory, on motion 
of General Harper, the Court adjourned the 
first day after his funeral, to hold a meeting, 
at which the judges, by invitation of the bar, 
attended, when the following resolution was 
unanimously adopted:-— 

"Resolved, that the members of the Balti- 
"more bar, as a mark of respect for the vir- 
tues, character and talents of their departed 
"brother, the Hon. Thomas P. Grosvenor, 
"and their deep regret for his early loss, will 
"wear crape on the left arm for one month.'* 

For a further account of this estimable man, 
the following obituary, ascribed to Paul Allen, 
esq. is republished from the Federal Republi- 
can and Baltimore Telegraph; 



77 

"It is with no ordinary sensibility that we 
"commit to our obituary, the name of the 
"Hon. Thomas P. Grosvenor. He died at 
"the seat of the Hon. Judge Hanson, in the 
"thirty-eighth year of his age. During the 
"last session of Congress, he was seized with 
"an affection in his chest, which was thought 
"by the physicians to be desperate and malig- 
nant. Nevertheless, hopes were entertained 
"from the excellence of his constitution, that 
"his life might be still spared to his country 
"and to his friends. These hopes gained ad- 
ditional confirmation from the protracted 
"character of his malady, until a very short 
"period before his decease. In the midst of 
"all these fallacious hopes, the disorder sud- 
denly took a more violent turn, and in a very 
"short period put an end to his existence, 

"Very imperfectly indeed, would those es- 
timate the qualities of the deceased, who 

"form their judgment from his public services 

g2 



78 

"alone. The features of his moral character 
"were not distinctly defined when seen by 
"the blaze of publick admiration. He was only 
"recognized there, as the intrepid defender 
"of the people's rights, whieh he maintained 
"with an ability, firmness and constancy, pr- 
oportionate to their own importance, and the 
"danger to be apprehended from their viola- 
"tioa. Yet here, amidst all these party storms 
"of debate, one feature of his character waa 
"plainly discernable; politics with him pos- 
sessed nothing of its usual grovelling selfish- 
"ness — his hostility was on a large, manly*, 
"noble, comprehensive scale— his genius was 
"seen and felt as a publick man, guided by 
"publick motives, and governed by a sense 
<<of publick duty, and not as a ruthless, per- 
secuting, personal opponent— at the conclu- 
sion of the debate, when with an honest fide- 
lity as a publick servant, he had discharged 
"his duty, he could take the most violent of 



79 

"his political opponents by the hand, and ii£- 
"dulge in all the flow of cordial affection. We 
"hope that this example, set by one of the" 
"leaders of the federal party, will be remem? 
"bered and imitated by both parties. 

"But we repeat the remark, that this trait, 
"beautiful and luminous as it is, was not the 
"distinctive trait of the character. It was 
"this: In the hour when the strong and impe* 
"rious claims of publick service were satisfied, 
"when- he was no longer a publick man, when 
"he was left to the guidance of his own heart, 
"all these high qualities retired from the gaze* 
"Mild, accessible, communicative and urbane, 
"he was then only distinguished by superiouf 
"courtesy, frankness and intellect. We were 
"suddenly surprised by strong and mascu* 
**line combinations of thought, splendid and 
"original views of publick men and of publick 
"measures, and those all presented with suck 
"ease and familiarity, with such simplicity •£ 



"character, so void of all ostentation or pa- 
rade, that we were delighted, entertained 
"and instructed, without being ourselves sen- 
sible of the obligation. He threw off the 
"splendour of his publick reputation, and ap- 
proached in the guise and character of a 
"friend on equal terms. On this point we can 
" speak with feeling and with emphasis, and 
"hazard nothing in the assertion, that a stran- 
ger who had read the publick papers, and had 
"accidentally conversed with the deceased^ 
"delighted, astonished and instructed as he 
" would be, never would for a moment believe, 
"that his sociable, frank and communicative 
"guest, was the orator, who, on the floor of 
"Congress, had so often electerized the House 
"of Representatives. In short, this peculiar 
"change of character, from the high and intre- 
pid, to the more amiable, frank and pleasant 
"qualities, formed the peculiar characteristick 
*of the deceased. His private conversation 



81 

"was, as Burke says, the green on which the 
"eye reposed after it was withdrawn from 
"his splendour. We observed the muscular 
"limbs and proportions of the giant, while 
"he appeared himself to slumber, unconscious 
"of his strength. It is an undoubted fact, 
"that neither the political friends, or the po- 
litical enemies of Grosvenor. are sensible of 
"the full weight of his character; but death is 
"a melancholy teacher. 

"When these great and distinctive points 
"of character are stated, all t^e common rela- 
tionships of life may be inferred, ff the 
"darkness of noli tical controversy was onlv a 
"cloud transiently passing over a sunbeam— 
"if every thing beyond was green, beautiful 
"and luminous, it is surely unnecessary to say 
"that in the calms of ordinary life, his orb 
"was lovely and serene: it is unnecessary to 
"say that his heart was the repository of all 
"the benevolent and generous ariections.— 



82 

♦'Nor should it be forgotten, that in his last 
"sickness, he added to these brilliant lights of 
"character, his testimony to the truths of the 
"gospel. He gave his testimony to these awful 
"truths on which our present and eternal fe- 
licity is dependent. The language of the re* 
"verend gentleman who attended him in those 
"awful moments, was this: 4 I was delighted 
°with the interview, and gratified to find Mr. 
"Grosvenor, perfectly at home upon religious 
"subjects, and so well prepared.* He receiv* 
"ed the sacrament and died in the faith of his 
"Redeemer." 



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85 

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86 

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